


While You Lay at Rest

by Sephielya_J_Maxwell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:39:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sephielya_J_Maxwell/pseuds/Sephielya_J_Maxwell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean discovers Castiel's wings are sensitive as well as powerful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While You Lay at Rest

Dean’s calloused fingers slid slowly over those dark feathers, catching here and there in places where the minuscule little barbs were separated. They weren’t perfect and pristine like one might expect of a holy entity, but that was a part of their charm. In fact they were far from majestic when he saw them like this, relaxed and folded up, all ruffled in disarray. Castiel lay stretched out on his stomach, the cheap hotel sheets only about halfway covering his ass, but his wings were doing a good job of covering the rest. With his arms folded under the pillow, Cas’ eyes were closed, and his expression was so peaceful that Dean couldn’t help but feel accomplished for. Not exhausted but content, something hard-pressed to come by these days. He wasn’t asleep of course, as the angel had no need for sleep, but merely relaxing. Far from dismayed over that little fact, Dean was content to explore that which he rarely got the chance to.

The first time had been almost an accident. They couldn’t stay out all the time, Castiel had explained, because they were composed of his non-corporal form. As such they were a direct connection to the essence inside of his vessel, something leaking out now and then. You couldn’t tear an angel’s wing off like in fiction, without killing a part of that angel. That was why, Castiel told him gravely, that when you killed an angel their wings left an impression outside of the vessel’s body. Dean thought of it like a lightning rod, a conductor for their holy energy. Either way, showing them after that first appearance had been an accident.

A moment of unaltered passion gone astray, when Dean had suddenly found his fingers tangled into warm feathers instead of Cas’ back. They were textured like the real thing—the feathers, that is. Angels were, after all, made in the image of things on Earth. Be they human or animal, and usually a mixture of both, there was a good reason that their wings held such likeness. As he tangled his fingers into them now, he could feel the soft pulse running through them. It wasn’t a heartbeat, more like touching a vibrating electrical cord and feeling the energy just under the surface. In fact even the act of running his fingers across them had given him that electric thrill.

 

Wings were a vulnerability, and showing them took energy. Like the vessel he resided in, Castiel could make them invisible any time that he chose. But he knew that Dean liked them, regarding them with an almost childish reverence. ‘Angels have wings.’ That was common sense. Castiel could reach into someone’s very soul, something which Dean found to be quite an invasive and all around awkward experience. And yet he laid his own bare, in the form of his wings, allowing Dean to touch them at his own discretion. Dean used to think that sharing your body with another was the highest form of intimacy, and he’d used that coping mechanism right up to the point that he’d forgotten how to let be the salve that it once was.

When you lay in bed with an angel of the Lord, one whom trusted you so completely, the mere act of sex nearly lost its splendor entirely. Almost. Dean could feel the protective shadow of those wings at all times these days, but he’d never felt so completely loved or at peace as when they were hovering above him in bed, or wrapped around him in a heated embrace.


End file.
